
Class _JP_£L3-5:a3 

Book .Ti x\l P^ 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Poems of Loyalty and Friendship 



Poems of Loyalty 

and Friendship 



By 
MARTIN EDWARD BUCKLEY 



1922 
CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 



Facsimile of Letter from President Poincare of France 



®M.nMJ. 












V 




^ 






^**-^'-'l4£«l,^<t-»_ 




/^k^*^<..*^J3^-^ 



TRANSLATION 

Paris, 22(1 Sept.. 1920. — TJea?- /Sir; / i/ia^ifc you for having been so kind 
as to send the beautiful ^^ Poems of Loyalty" of Mr. Maiiin E. Buckley. 

I will be much obliged if you will convey my thanks to Mr. Addison C. 
Thomas and Mr. Buckley, and to add for the author my best congratulations. 

Poincare 

Translation of the letter was made by Henri A N. Didot, vice consul of France in Chicaeo, 
who not only attached his official signature, but affixed the seal of the consulate 

AUG -7 i922 Copyright, 1920, by M. E. Buckley 

>^CI.A683261 



CONTENTS 

The Flag of Our Country 5 

The Party Lincoln Made 6 

The Fight Is On 7 

The Freedom of the World 8 

The Holy Land Is Free at Last 9 

The Dawn of Freedom 10 

Visions I Saw in My Dreaming 11 

As I Saw the Boys Marching Away 12 

Our Country's Honor Is Complete 13 

The Soldier on Sentry 14 

When I Found the Flag IS 

Our Brave French Brother, France 16 

Our Universal Swimming Pool 17 

Mothers' Day 18 

Children and Dogs Are Not Admitted 19 

To Willie Junior 20 

The Attic 21 

September Rose 22 

Tribute to Robert Eramett 23 

To My Daughter at Archibald Lake 24 

Virtue of a Rose 25 

That Dear Old Pal of Mine 26 

I Shall Always See Her Face 27 

To Gladys 28 

A Tribute 29 

To William Lightfoot \^isscher 30 

The Emblem of Luck; the Horse-shoe 31 

Sweet Ray of Wisdom 32 

That Silent One Upstairs 33 

The Wages of Greed 34 

Domestic Woe 35 

A Sweet Baby's Kiss 36 

Our Helen, Bride-to-Be 37 

The Ship of Life 38 

Dear Dad Is Calling Me 39 

Man's Noble Friend 40 

The Man Who Shoes the Horse 41 

The Ghost of the Old Sugar Bush 42 

To Michael Burke 43 

Ode to a Friend 44 

I Know Not the Bard 45 

Oh! Hie Me Away 46 

Because He Was a Gentleman 47 

To Molly, Captain B 48 



INTRODUCTION 

Not since the Christ Child was discovered in the 

manger has there been such a pressing demand 
for unselfish forgiveness and humanity towards the 
people of all nations as exists today. 

The World War was the outcolne of autocratic, 
selfish ambition, and the final settlement should 
be based on universal freedom and justice to the 
people of the earth. 

In portraying, with Betsy's flag, the birth of the 
first republic, incidents linked with the daily lives 
of the people have been added. We have selected a 
few poems from a large collection from the pen of 
a man who, in all his writings and dealings with his 
fellows, commencing with the discovery of this man, 
many years ago, behind a blacksmith's anvil, up to 
the present moment, not an unkind word or selfish 
act or motive have we been able to discover. 

Generous to a fault, filled to overflowing with the 
milk of human kindness, ready to extend a helping 
hand to friend or foe, such is the character of the 
author of the poems within the pages of this little 
booklet — fit, we believe, for the firesides, pulpit, 
the schools and the press. The author — a man 
among men, is M. E. Buckley. 

Addison C. Thomas. 




BETSY ROSS MADE IT WASHINGTON ADOPTED IT 
LINCOLN PRESERVED IT 



THE FLAG OF OUR COUNTRY 

Our standard respected by all the world o'er, 
Triumphant today on a far distant shore, 
Was fashioned by Betsy, the maid of its birth, 
Baptized in the blood of the bravest on earth. 
Consecrated to freedom and justice it stands. 
Far-famed for its virtues in many sad lands. 
It is Heaven's design, of the colors so true. 
Our emblem of glory — the red, white and blue! 

Unselfish it waves, with the murmuring wind 
Sweet vespers from Heaven harmoniously blend, 
And from its broad folds the glad tidings are hurled 
Which sparkle with hope for the ill-fated world. 
With a ray of the freedom our country enjoys 
The sweet shrine of sacrifice made by our boys, 
In its stars we commune with the noble and true 
Who died for the cause of the red, white and blue! 

Still brighter and greater our banner shall flow 
For our tender to France the just debt that we owe; 
Over two millions strong were at arms in the rear. 
When at Lafayette's tomb, Pershing said "We are here !" 
There he gave unto Foch our brave anny of men 
Who drove the "Sly Fox" from his infamous den, 
And they won for dear France beloved freedom anew, 
Led on by Old Glory — the red, white and blue! 

Thou sweet inspiration of story and song, 

How radiant thy stars and stripes gently wave 
As they float o'er the world, ever righting the wrong, 

A bright shield of the orphan and hope of the brave. 
We hail thee, dear emblem, the sword and the might. 

The colors that never shall perish or fade. 
The standard of justice, the way and the light. 

The immortal banner that Betsy hath made. 



THE PARTY LINCOLN MADE 

Shall we forget the laurels won 

For forty-four long years, 
And spurn the deeds so nobly done, 

Through joy, success and tears? 
Shall we allow our heroes' deeds 

Like fairy dreams to fade, 
And turn to where oblivion leads 

The party Lincoln made? 

Ah, no; the sons of Liberty 

Will heed the battle cry, 
And with unswerving loyalty, 

To its standard they will fly, 
And carry on to victory 

That fabric of high grade, 
In honor to the history 

Of the party Lincoln made. 




ABRAHAM LINCOLN 



THE FIGHT IS ON 

The fight is on, 'tis for the best; 
The bugles sound from east to west. 
Beneath those free and sunny skies 
0\xr Nation bids the brave arise. 
It needs their aid on land and sea, 
How loyal everyone should be, 
And freely give and freely part 
The cherished loved ones near the heart. 

Go, go, be honored with the true. 
Our Nation's pride, the boys in blue. 
Fear not the boasted submarines. 
The Kaiser's hope, the Kaiser's dreams, 
For dreams most always prove a myth — 
Wrong cannot win against the right. 
The time has come, let us be men. 
We must be soldiers brave to win. 

Then hasten to the bugle's call, 
Our Country's honor shall not fall ; 
Our heroes braved the stormy wave, 
For liberty their lives they gave. 
Their deeds of valor on us dawn, 
Inspiring us while marching on, 
With firm resolve to never yield 
On open sea or battle field. 



FREEDOM OF THE WORLD 

Our soldiers are being wafted 

To a land beyond the sea, 

And they brave the stormy waters 

To fight for you and me. 

For love of freedom spurs them on; 

Old Glory is unfurled, 

To prove that right shall win the fight 

For freedom of the world. 

For freedom of the world our flag is waving, 
Where hate and murder's horrors hold their sway, 
But Columbia's noble sons the way are paving 
To a victory wherein dawns a brighter day. 
Sparkling with the light of brave determination. 
To crush mankind's oppressor we are hurled. 
And with the wealth and power of God's free nation 
We are bound to win the freedom of the world. 

With victory we ofifer all 
The freedom we enjoy, 

The Kaiser's kultur and his throne 
Our armies must destroy. 
Then sorrow-stricken Europe's land 
Across the briny sea 
For us will pray and bless the day 
Columbia set them free. 



THE HOLY LAND IS FREE 
AT LAST 

In Bethlehem on Christmas Day 
An Infant in a manger lay, 
The Virgin Mother by his side, 
With Joseph as his guard and guide, 
Protecting Babe and Mother blest 
As they reposed in peaceful rest ; 
That Babe who came His life to cast, 
His Holy Land is free at last. 

Now we may bow in reverence there 
And breathe His praise in silent prayer 
And gaze upon that precious tomb, 
The sweetest flower of Christendom ! 
And cast our thoughts on Calvary, 
For there He died for you and me; 
And everywhere His lot was cast. 
That Holy Land is free at last. 

Oh Palestine, thou holy shrine, 
The birthplace of our God divine. 
Thy name doth shine in Holy Writ, 
Therein the Christian faith was lit ; 
For on the crucifixion day 
The sins of men were washed away ; 
For Thee our joys and tears are cast, 
The Holy Land is free at last. 



THE DAWN OF FREEDOM 

ADDISON G. PROCTOR is the only 
surviving delegate who attended 
the convention which nomi- 
nated Lincoln in 1860. 

In thee, dear Proctor, shines the light, 
The fan:ie, the glory and the might 
Of Lincoln, and the cause of right. 

Just sixty years ago! 
For in our midst still lives to grace 
The shrine of that immortal place 
Which gave to Hani's lamented race 

The light of freedom's glow! 

This worthy host, of whom we mention, 
Famed delegate of that convention, 
The source of nation-wide attention. 

Shall be his party's guest. 
With him the shades of comrades dead 
Shall hover 'round, and lustre spread 
Upon the only living head, 

Who served his part)' best. 

And may his presence there advise 
To move with caution sane and wise. 
The people stand with open eyes. 

Let honor be the guide; 
That history in the years to come 
May hail with joy the victory won. 
Proclaiming him a worthy son 

Throughout the nation wide! 



10 



VISIONS I SAW IN MY DREAMING 

The visions I saw in my dreaming, 

Though many, all seem to be true ; 
Now lend me the light softly beaming 

And glowing, my Country, for you. 
There are visions of glory returning. 

That spirit of freedom anew, 
For the cause of mankind brightly burning, 

A flame of the red, white, and blue. 
I saw our boys spring from the trenches, 

Move forward and drive the Huns back; 
Their daring assault never flinches 

As they rush on again to attack; 
I san- Pershing march with his army, 

Resolved that the world may be free ; 
I saw the French win at the Marne, 

Great victory for humanity ; 
I saw the high hills red and gorj'. 

Humanity's great sacrifice, 
Where once happiness reigned in its glory 

Remain now but murder and vice. 
I saw the wives, sweethearts, and mothers. 

Each broken in spirit appears. 
For the loss of sons, fathers, and lovers, — 

Poor France is a valley of tears. 
Yet, courage ! for victory is coming. 

It is nearing us day after day; 
The kaiser's vain hordes are now running, 

Pressed down with the gloom of dismay. 
I can hear the sweet strains of old Dixie 

In Belgium way down by the sea, 
Where the Sammies are joyful and friskie 

In the great fight for humanity. 



11 



AS I SAW THE BOYS MARCHING AWAY 

How sweetly the band was playing 

As proudly they marched along, 
Their banners and mottos displaying, 

WTiile loud were the cheers of the throng. 
For soon they will cross the wide ocean. 

The fond mother-hearts sobbing, pray. 
From their souls pour the tears of emotion 

As they watched the boys marching away. 

O noble American Mother! 

How can the world ever repay — 
To thee we give homage and honor 

In the hour of your joy and dismay. 
Thou hast given thy all to the nation 

For to check that inhuman decay, 
To crush German world domination 

I saw the boys marching away. 

The allied world has its brave mothers — 

O what sacrifice Europe hath made ! 
For their husbands, their sons, and their lovers 

Fond mothers in silence have prayed. 
Let us cheer them in care and in sorrow. 

Our comrades we shall not betray; 
Let us pray for bright victory to-morrow 

For the boys we watched marching away! 



12 



OUR COUNTRY'S HONOR IS 
COMPLETE 

Our country's honor is complete 

Through years of trial and strife, 
It stands today the lofty seat 

Of all that's sweet in life. 
With bleeding Europe in the grasp 

Of seething flame and shell 
Her outstretched arms in vain we clasp 

To end their living hell. 

The war with all its raging flames 

Spread almost to our shores, 
That leaves destruction in its wake 

Its sickening vapors pours; 
A war wherein great kingdoms fall 

Just one great demon started, 
Grim jealousy the cause of all 

Why God and man hath parted. 

Our Country stands with open arms 

And bids all welcome here, 
Where freedom reigns with all her charms 

To mankind ever dear. 
She takes us to her kindly breast 

Adopts us as her child ; 
How could we prove a traitor to 

Our foster mother mild. 

Yet how ungrateful some have been ! 

Can we as sons forget 
Our foster brothers plainly seen 

Disloyal to us yet. 
If liberty won by the brave 

They trample in the earth. 
Then ship them back across the wave 

Where freedom has no birth. 



THE SOLDIER ON SENTRY 

Somewhere in France a lone soldier 

Recalls the bright days of the past; 
Before him the battlefields smolder 

Where death and destruction are cast; 
He saw the dear home of his birth; 

To safely return was his prayer, 
Where once all was sunshine and mirth, 

Now hears a voice calling him there. 

A shade from the darkness comes creeping, 

A faint sound of footsteps come near, 
A voice speaks with accents appealing, 

To him so familiar, so dear; 
His heart for the moment stops beating. 

Those cherished words softly did say, 
"I have come to extend you my greeting 

From over the sea far away." 

Alas, the dear vision of mother 

The soldier on sentry hath seen ; 
Those words of love came from no other. 

No other so kind would have been. 
For they whispered, "You're fighting for virtue, 

In victory its blessings you'll find ; 
If you die for the cause God will bless you 

For His Son died for all humankind." 



14 



WHERE I FOUND THE FLAG 

During the World War a returned sol- 
dier born in Austria said : "Kick this 
country, you kick me." 

Upon Desplaines' bright scenic shore 
Wliere love and peace and plenty pour, 
Far from the angry cannon's roar, 

A humble cottage stands. 
There dwells a true, adopted son, 
A patriot our love hath won ; 
To him we say, "True heart, well done, 

So worthy our free lands!" 

For such the call goes o'er the sea. 
Come, join the hosts of Liberty, 
Where men may live and happy be 

Unfettered throughout life : 
Where Uncle stands at freedom's door, 
Shares freely all his stock and store, 
Assuring them for evermore 

Immunity from strife. 

I saw upon that humble wall 

The Stars and Stripes beloved by all, 

With Betsy Ross, as I recall. 

Presenting George the flag. 
I put the question "Can this be? 
Such loyalty is rare to see." 
Replying thus, he said to me, 

"I love that dear old Flag." 

"Kick this country, \'ou kick me." 

The essence of pure loyalty. 

All foreigners should imitate, 

Then we could boast a country great. 

And give unto posterity 

The flowing fount of Libert}! 

Our banner then would stand unfurled, 

Demanding justice for the world. 



15 



OUR BRAVE FRENCH BROTHER 
FRANCE 

Beyond the sea a brother 

Is bleeding over there, 
One that loved us as no other, 

In his sorrows we must share. 
Who fought for us in youthful days 

And bravely took a chance, 
Which gained for him immortal praise — 

Our brave French brother, France. 

Too long have we been dreaming 

While we should be fighting there ; 
Where for liberty is streaming 

That young blood so hard to spare. 
If Lafayette had stayed at home 

And shared not in our woes. 
The life of Washington would atone, 

A victim of his foes. 

A word of praise for Johnny Bull, 

Our ally in this fight — 
If he was wrong most all his life, 

Just this time he is right. 
The deeds of those Canadian boys 

Hold Wilhelm in a trance, 
We share their sorrows and their joys 
As brothers now in France. 



16 



ONE UNIVERSAL SWIMMING POOL 

John, a school boy, appealed to the president 
in behalf of a swimming pool and received a 
sympathetic reply. 

When but a boy, long years ago, 

I loved to roam about the creek 
Where I could see the waters flow, 

And hear its babbling music speak. 
In memory's pages I recall 

How boys would gather after school ; 
Its pearly streams were free to all — 

That old, immortal swimming pool. 

It lay within the forest deep. 

And 'round its densely timbered shores 
The birch and hemlock murmured sweet 

The song that in my memory pours. 
The cedar tree I still can see, 

That spans the waters rare and cool 
From which we sprang with youthful glee 

Into that famous swimming pool. 

Dear boyhood age, devoid of grief, 

To every loving heart appeals, 
So honored by our nation's chief 

Whose kindly note to John reveals. 
There is no power beneath the skies, 

While wisdom holds the right to rule. 
Would spurn what nature's laws advise. 

Denying boys a swimming pool. 

Then hail to In'm, the nation's choice. 

So worthy of our high esteem. 
And trust 'ere long we shall rejoice 

To realize our fondest dream. 
That peace throughout the world shall reign ; 

That people everywhere may rule. 
The world would then be safe and sane — 

One universal swimming pool ! 



17 



MOTHERS' DAY 

The restless world is all aflame, 

Mad thirst for gold is everywhere, 
We think not of the source we came. 

Nor of the simple nightly prayer 
Was taught to us at mother's knee. 

Upon retiring we would say. 
Brings cherished memories back to me. 

Divinely sent on Mothers' Day. 

How dear to all the name of Mother, 

To her we owe our life and birth, 
The peer of sister, wife or brother, 

Our only loyal friend on earth, 
Who stood by us through pain and sorrow 

And never once would turn away. 
Her smiles would ever bless the morrow 

And bring us joy on Mothers' Day. 

But oh, how sad it is to say, 

In this bleak age of woe and stress 
Some mothers would their child betray 

For vanity, for style and dress; 
To her who would be so unwise, 

Go bow in shame and turn away. 
Unworthy of the sunlit skies 

That shine with bliss on Mothers' Day ! 



18 



CHILDREN AND DOGS ARE NOT 
ADMITTED 

We see inscribed in Holy Writ 
The way to Heaven brightly lit, 
And with the Angels we rejoice 
To read therein the words that voice 
"Suffer the little ones to come to me," 
For of such in Heaven be. 
Prove he who loves the little child 
Shares in his joys pure, undefiled ; 
And when he leaves this world of care, 
Those little ones shall greet him there. 
But oh, kind Heaven, can it be 
That in our land of liberty 
The doors are closed against the child 
By selfish owners vainly styled 
The lords, who gruffly turn away 
The soldiers of a future day? 
Those are the facts so much regretted. 
That children and dogs be not admitted ! 

How can a man, or group of men. 
Continue on, through jears of sin, 
By spurning that which God hath given, 
Through Him pronounced the joys of Heaven, 
And fling the gifts back in His face. 
Denying such a resting place? 
How can we boast our country free, 
Where reigns such foul hypocrisy? 



19 



TO WILLIE JUNIOR 

(Three Years Old) 

Willie Junior three years old, 
Perfect son of nature's mould 
Papa's blue-eyed baby boy 
Mother's pride and rarest joy 
Angel that was sent to bless 
Mother with his sweet caress 
Sharing of his bliss with Pa 
Tender kisses won from Ma. 
Sweet as soothing drops of rain 
Showers them back on Ma again. 
Lend a beauty, charm and grace 
That no other could replace. 
Filling Pa and Ma with joy 
And the love of baby boy. 



20 



THE ATTIC 

There's a cozy little attic of a cottage in your town 
Where I enjoyed a dinner that is worthy of renown ; 
As with music, song and story our thoughts we did divide 
For our path leads on to glory if in friendship we abide. 
There a narrow little table served a place for one and all; 
Just six were in the party ; some were stout and others tall ; 
And the meal was so delicious, for we seasoned it with love, 
In a cozy little attic of the cottage up above. 

As a stranger in the party, I never shall forget 
The bright and cheerful greetings of the kindly friends I met ; 
The social chords began to play, for joy was on the scene. 
And poured its bliss from one and all on Daddy and his queen. 

Now I'll conclude these greetings and extend to all my love 
With a blessing on the attic of the cottage up above. 



SEPTEMBER ROSE 

Upon September's fourteenth day 

The golden Autumn's shining ray 

Shone forth upon a baby rare 

Who crowned with joy a mother's prayer. 

Now at the age of twenty-three 

She stands in all her majesty, 

With smiles that know not sorrow's pang,- 

September Rose, — Virginia Lang. 

I saw your heart beat through your eyes 
And note therein its joys and sighs, 
For in those brown eyes seem to play 
The sunbeams of a happy day. 
When Cupid with his bow and dart 
Proclaims thee of his life a part 
And with his proclamation sang, 
"Behold my queen, Virginia Lang." 



22 



TRIBUTE TO ROBERT EMMETT 

Let his epitaph be written, 

Sound his praises everywhere, 
We beseech the, Saints of Heaven, 

Gather round his spirit there. 
Raise the flag he bravely died for, 

Honored it shall ever be 
From its folds shall wave the answer 

That the Emerald Isle is free ! 

Immortal son, we proudly greet thee, 

Angel of sweet liberty, 
For thy spirit clings around us 

Whispering we should brothers be. 
Of thy lustre friends are singing 

In that chorus dear to me, 
Sound the voices sweetly ringing 

That the Emerald Isle is free! 



23 



TO MY DAUGHTER AT 
ARCHIBALD LAKE 

While I dwell on the beauties of Archibald Lake, 

And its densely timbered shores, 
I long for a stroll once more to take, 
And lisp in the lore the wind doth make 
While its wild music pours. 

For I see the peninsula high and dry. 

The lake's most charming view, 
And I hear the tall pines' moaning sigh 
In front of that rustic home near by. 

Where hearts are kind and true. 

And I hear the shrill voice of the hunriii^; liound, 

Who follows the panting deer, 
As he eagerly barks with every bound, 
Which echoes through the woods around — 

Sweet music unto the ear. 

And I hear the sharp sound of the hunter's gun, 

Way ofif on the distant shore, 
And I feel that the race for life is run. 
The aim is true, and the game is won, 

As many hath done before. 

And I hear a voice murmuring soft and low, 

That oft in my ears have played, 
In a moment my heart is all aglow, 
As I fly to the arms of the one I know. 

And foundled when but a babe. 

Now there in her Eden of sweet repose. 

With the one she loves so well, 
From early morn to even's close. 
She beams with a charm of a blushing rose. 

Which only love can tell. 



24 



VIRTUE OF A ROSE 

The thoughts that flow while fancy dreams 

Lead on through fields of pearly light, 
An endless ray of beauty beams 

Which gives my wondering soul delight. 
There love in her endearing charms 

Bid me forget my cares and woes 
While gently placing in my arms 

Her flowery queen, the virgin rose. 
Behold the morning's summer sun 

Spread o'er the flowers its soothing beam. 
And note the waving colors run 

Awakened from their nightly dream, 
And blushing as a virgin bride 

Serene in Nature's spotless bowers 
^Vhere love and romance rule the tide 

That winds its way amongst the flowers. 
The rose amidst its kindred towers 

Majestically above them all; 
Its fragrance pours the rarest showers, 

The sweet incense around us fall. 
Add lustre to that Prince above 

Where angels cluster round the throne 
Breathing the vespers of His love 

In blissful praise to Him alone. 



THAT DEAR OLD PAL OF 
MINE 

On Erskin stands an Eden, 

Where a welcome a\\aits nie, 
The stars of friendsliip brighten 

When those smih'ng friends I see. 
There is bahn and consolation 

In that bower of love divine, 
For it is the honored station 

Of that dear old pal of mine. 

There a friendly hand extended 

All the fullness of his heart, 
With a shake two souls are blended 

As if touched by magic art, 
There with stor}', wit and laughter, 

I have whiled away the time, 
Until one o'clock or after, 

With that dear old pal of mine. 

Rlest be every one connected 

In that home to me so dear ! 
Friends I always have respected, 

With a heart true and sincere. 
For loved ones in your keeping 

'Tis decreed they are in line 
To share alike this greeting. 

To that dear old pal of mine. 

A friend a score of years or more, 

The kindest and the best; 
You have been loyal to the core, 

Oft tried, and stood the test. 
And as life's fleeting hou.rs roll on. 

Through fading years of time, 
My kindest thoughts shall dwell upon 

That dear old pal of mine. 



26 



1 SHALL ALWAYS SEE HER FACE 

Gradually the shades are closing, 

Darkness nestles on my brow, 
Dim, though not in sleep reposing 

Naught is left to cheer me now. 
But the wife I love and cherish 

One no other can replace. 
Though the light from me may perish 

I shall always see her face. 

When I hear the footsteps coming. 

And the murmur of that voice, 
To her side my thoughts are running 

Where the heart leads, I rejoice. 
Though my eyes are dimmed forever 

In the gloom, I shall retrace 
Memories only death can sever 

And the lovelight in her face. 

How endearing that affection, 

Oh, how pure the virgin love 
So deserving the protection 

Of that guiding hand above! 
Blest is he while in her keeping 

Shares that balm-bestowing grace. 
Though in darkness may be sleeping 

He shall always see her face. 



27 



TO GLADYS 

I pluck from springtide's flowery fields 
A virgin rose, whose fragrance yields 
As through my wearied fancy steals 

A soothing mellow ray, 
Revealing Nature's noble art, 
God's gift to thee, Love's rarest part, 
That blooms within the soul and heart 
Of Gladys, "Rose of May." 

Oh glorious May, sweet month of flowers, 
Of babbling brooks and sunny showers. 
Of budding trees and shady bowers ; 

Oh ! could I love thee more ! 
Thy warbling birds so sweetly sing. 
From every nook their voices ring 
With greetings, to the Queen of Spring 

Their chirping sweetness pour. 

Thus, Maid of Venus, Taurus' sign. 
Dear star of love and bliss divine. 
On thee sweet gifts of heaven shine 

To bless thee day by day; 
For thee sweet strains of music swell 
While soft airs lend their soothing spell. 
For in them tales of love will tell 

To Gladys, "Rose of May." 



28 




OPIE READ 



A TRIBUTE 

In dreams of you, I see the light, 

The radiance of that genial smile. 
That shines from blue eyes ever bright, 

As glistening stars that soothe the while. 
Lend color to their glowing charms, 

While pearls of wit and mirth endear, 
A welcome waits with open arms, 

And laughter pours its blissful tear. 

I saw a fountain babbling there, 

I sipped the water's crystal stream ; 
I breathed of the fragrant air 

Divinely sent to bless my dream. 
I saw the birds flit to and fro, 

Whose songs ajvake the soul's refrain ; 
For there the charms of nature flow, 

In rustic robes divinely plain. 

I saw a stranger standing by, 

Who lingered at the fountain's brink, 
Where music drowns the weary sigh, 

And all who thirst for knowledge drink 
The soothing beverage of the soul. 

That wings away the gloom of night, 
And lights the way on which we stroll 

Through scenes of culture and delight. 

On every side the blooming flowers, 

Perfume the path we tread upon. 
And beauty's beam illumes the bowers. 

As blissful realms softly dawn. 
I hail the spirit of my theme, 

A fount of love whose lofty creed, 
And inspiration of my dream. 

Reveal the soul of Opie Read. 



29 



TO WILLIAM LIGHTFOOT VISSCHER 

Let ine lighten the cares of youi- golden days, 

To the Autumn of life bring cheer, 
While I humbly lisp fond words of praise. 
Reflecting the friendship my soul conveys 
To a kindred heart so dear. 

Let me seek in the valley of dreams with you 

Kind Heaven's inspiring bowers, 
And share in the droppings of blissful dew 
The beverage distilled for the favored few 
To sip in the silent hours. 

Let us drift along the winding stream, 

Let the spirit of nature guide, 
Where deep in the forest the wild birds scream, 
And the silvery moon on the waters gleam, 

The glow of a blushing bride. 

Friend of my heart may I pore along 

Fond tidings that may console, 
Which swell in the thrill of emotion's song, 
Sweet whispers of love and her virtues strong 

That flow from a fervent soul. 

For thy song shall ring o'er the nation wide 

Wherever true hearts are found. 
And thy fame through countless years shall glide, 
And sprinkle with lustre the flowing tide. 
Of friends the world around. 



30 




WILLIAM LIGHTFOOT VISSCHER 



THE EMBLEM OF LUCK; THE HORSE-SHOE 

Let me linger again where I hear the refrain 

Of the music endearing to me; 
Where the hammers' dong-ding on the anvil would ring. 

In my soul there I'm longing to be. 
Then life was a song tho' we worked hard and long, 

When the number was made we were through. 
It was pleasure galore to observe on the floor 

That emblem of luck, the horse-shoe. 

Refraik : 
Ding, Dong! Ding, Dong! 

The sparks fly to and fro 
On the anvil's prong awake the song 

That rang long years ago. 
Ding, Dong! Ding, Dong! 

Fond days of old renew. 
'Twas pleasure galore to observe on the floor 

That emblem of luck, the horse-shoe. 

(jone are the fond years that in memory appear, 

On the swift wing of time they have fled. 
Still the hammers' ding-dong oft' recall the years long 

When my heart to the anvil was wed. 
When before me would stand with sledge in his hauil 

My pal who \A'as loyal and true; 
For he kept the moulds hot and he struck the right spot 

While we turned the time-honored, horse-shoe. 

Refrain : 



31 



SWEET RAY OF AVISDOM 

Sweet ray of wisdom, shining bright 

With purit}' most rare, 
On mother earth shed forth the light 

Of freedom everywhere. 
Kind Providence upon it smiles 

His gentle beam of love 
Which lights us on through cares and trials 

To peace and joy above. 

Sweet Liberty's pure air pour on 

Balm giving breezes to the world. 
And breathe to all that welcome song 

For which Old Glory is unfurled. 
Unfurled today it proudly stands. 

Serene on virtue's noble breast ; 
Aloft from stain of selfish hands. 

Beneath its folds mankind is blest. 



32 



THAT SILENT ONE UPSTAIRS 

Shall I forget when last we met, 

Could I be so ungrateful, 
To not fulfill my word so willed 

To them so kind and faithful? 
Shall I forget those angel ejes, 

I see them now and ever, 
That parent kiss with soulful bliss 

Forget it, I can never. 

I saw the little baby laugh, 

Then cry, while cutting teeth, 
I saw the mother as she smiled 

Yet in her soul did weep ; 
I saw your home of happiness 

Your sorrows and your cares, 
But all the time my thoughts were with 

That silent one upstairs. 

Editor's Note: — Written in Detroit. The 
subject of this verse was paralyzed, could 
neither move nor speak. 



33 



THE WAGES OF GREED 

Gone are the true, sane traditions of old 

That the Saviour revealed to the flock of His fold, 

And gone is the true love so dear to the heart, 

Deception and falsehood now play leading part; 

For gold is the dream and the theme of mankind. 

The true path is forgotten and virtue is blind ; 

For selfish ambition we now feel the rod 

As a warning to love and not trifle with God. 

Yes, God is forgotten while jealous decay 
With its poisonous vapours is cast in our way. 
His unerring justice has long been delayed 
And we now pluck the fruits that our folly has made. 
We shall sink in the grave hollowed by our own hand, 
'Tis the wages of greed throughout every land. 
For the feet of the Saviour wealth's path never trod 
As a proof to the world its rejection by God. 



34 



DOMESTIC WOE 

We are asking the cause of our domestic woe 

Which casts o'er our life that great demon of strife; 

The answer is: Heaven has never intended 

To bless without love wedded bliss in this life. 

Yes, the cause of it all is the lack of afiFection, 

For them no sweet ray of love's sunshine adorns; 

They are fickle, unsettled, untruthful, and peevish, 
Eternally fighting and searching for thorns. 

Observe where a couple in love are united, 

How happy, how peaceful their years as they roll ; 

Every look, every smile sends a reverberation 

Which echoes each thought of the innermost soul. 

Yes, life without love, either wedded or single, 

Has its snares ever set into which we may fall. 

The demon of lust sullies charm and affection, 
A vain, fickle mind is the cause of it all. 



86 



A SWEET BABY'S KISS 

It was sometime ago I called on a friend 

In the pride of Missouri, St. Louis, 

Just a friendly visit, a few hours to spend, 

For a friend is the heart dearest to us. 

To his bright happy home I set out all alone ; 

I was greeted and shone through every room, 

Where the spirit of sanctity pure abides there 

To bless mama and baby with beauty so rare. 

I still see the smile of that sweet little tot 

Whom papa while fishing six months ago caught; 

As he cooed and he fondled there in mother's arms 

To her he gave each and all of his charms, 

And mama with papa Norbet's love she did share 

With a sweet blissful kiss from her baby so rare. 

Oh, were I endowed with the spirit sublime 
To give vent in its fullest words pure and divine ; 
How glowing, how charming, I'd write of that bliss 
(^f a true mother's love and a sweet baby's kiss. 



36 



OUR HELEN: BRIDE TO BE 

Our hearts pour forth, they blend as one, 

As sons and daughters, we 
Send greetings to our charit}' queen, 

For sister, true, is she. 
The shepherd calls her to his side 

For her nobler self than he, 
Will crown her mistress of his fold, 

Our Helen, bride-to-be. 

In the daj^s of Mary Anderson, 

Our Mary she was termed; 
We loved her for her virtues — why, 

The Prince of Wales she spurned. 
But our Helen still was greater. 

In many ways for she 
Gave to the poor and needy, 

Spurned notoriety. 
May her lot in life be happy 

For beloved by all is she ; 
And the greetings of the nation 

Go to Helen, bride-to-be. 

Then hail to her soon to be wed, 

The one who's tried and true, 
Who spurned those bankrupt noblemen 

And so-called titles, too. 
As a model for young heiresses 

In our land of the free, 
That an American true for life will do, 

Our Helen, bride-to-be. 



37 



THE SHIP OF LIFE 

We are wafted down the river 

And we know not where we go, 
Nor do we much consider 

As the waters onward flow; 
We are drifting slow but surely 

As the channel winding wends, 
We know not and we think not 

Of the hour our journey ends. 
Night after night we close our eyes 

And sink in sweet repose ; 
Our ship is strong, the storm defies. 

We care not how it blows; 
Till, hark! we hear that doleful sound 

Which chills us cold with fear; 
Swift o'er the steep the waters bound. 

Our journey's end is near ; 
No human hand can stem the tide 

As madly we rush on, 
For here we leap the great divide. 

Our ship of life is gone. 
And so with life's sad story: 

For a time we all may shine. 
But a God of love and glory 

Shapes our end with Father Time. 



38 



DEAR DAD IS CALLING ME 

A little girl, while straying, 

Along the street one day. 
Stood when she heard the anvil ring 

In a shop across the way. 
It rang sweet memories in her ears, 

A vision she could see, 
And to the farrier softly said, 

"Dear Dad is calling me." 

"Yes, Dad is calling me, 

Oh, how I long to see 
That smiling face aglow with love, 

That heart so kind and free. 
I know he's with the angels now. 

On earth no more I see ; 
Still when I hear the anvil ring 

Dear Dad is calling me." 

"Full many years have passed away 

Since brother Joe and I 
Together, played about the forge 

While sparks would round us fly. 
Sweet baby stories he would tell 

Filled us with joy and glee; 
Xo wonder when the anvil rings, 

Dear Dad is calling me." 

"Oh. could he only live again, 

How happy I would be, 
What pleasure it would be to all, 

For ever kind was he ; 
And on returning home at eve 

I'd sit upon his knee 
And listen to his lore of love, 

The soul of songs to me." 



39 



MAN'S NOBLE FRIEND, THE HORSE 

We may read in history's pages 

How great men have fought and died, 

It spurs us on to greater deeds 

And fills us with much pride. 

For the one who brought them to the fray 

With the battle won or lost. 

Was that tried and true, he'd die or do, 

Man's noble friend, the horse. 

Just ponder o'er his record, 
Does it not plainly show 
They made our country famous. 
Added to its wealth a glow? 
That gallant man Phil Sheridan 
W^ho long since passed away, 
But for his noble steed, 
^Vould be less known to-day. 

Just imagine in the thickest 

Of battle's dark array. 

How fearlessly he galloped on 

Right straight into the fray. 

Then who made our country's heroes? 

For answer we're not lost ; 

Just give it to that gallant steed, 

Man's noble friend, the horse. 

Just a few more words I'll mention 

In our friend's declining day, 

When swift mobiles with rubber wheels 

H ave come with us to stay ; 

So, if you go out for a spin 

Round our country or across, 

If by chance you have a smash-up 

Get our noble friend, the horse. 



40 



THE MAN WHO SHOES THE 
HORSE 

There's mechanics of all classes, 

And they are of every grade; 
We need them in our country 

And we have the best that's made. 
To them we give great honor 

Whether journejanan or boss, 
But confer a special favor 

On the man who shoes the horse. 

Now when we confer this favor 

We must give the reason why: 
If a carpenter cuts a board too short 

There's another one close by ; 
If a mason lays a stone that's wrong 

He'll lay it o'er again. 
If the second time it's out of plumb 

A dead one feels no pain. 

But let our friend make such mistakes, 
What suffering and remorse ! 

Then to whom belongs the honor? — 

Why, the man who shoes the horse. 



THE GHOST OF THE OLD SUGAR BUSH 

My thoughts wander back to the days long ago 

As I dwell on the Old Sugar Bush, 

Where oft in the springtime we tripped to and fro 

Carrying sap through the snow and the brush; 

But our minds were care-free, for contented were we, 

There was nothing to blight or to crush 

In the pure balmy air, the sun shone brightly there 

Mid the trees of the Old Sugar Bush. 

'Mid the tall maple trees, wringing wet to the knees 

Oft we sat by the glowing log fire, 

And while boiling the sap, the woodpecker would tap 

For the worm of his hungry desire. 

At the clear, hollow sound oft the watch-dog would bark, 

It was Nature's sweet call, all were out for a lark. 

Each echo resounding in silence we hush, 

Those were joys of the Old Sugar Bush. 

With the syrup boiled down into sugar we pour 
The contents of the kettle filled six pans or more, 
Besides all the tafiy was poured on the snow 
Would serve a whole party of fifteen or so. 
There we'd stay until stars in the heavens shone bright 
While bidding kind Nature a happy good night. 
'^Those memories endearing we all love so much 
Come to me as the Ghost of the Old Sugar Bush. 

Editor's Note. — The Sugar Bush grew near Buckley's old 
home, and he became reminiscent as we all do at times, espe- 
cially as we grow older. 

Burns was a plow boy, Buckley a blacksmith, and for twenty 
years he was nailing shoes on American horses. 

These men possessed big hearts as well as big hands and 
hardened muscles on their good right arms. They were in 
sympathy with humanity and the common people. 



TO MICHAEL BURKE 

Dear Friend, within my soul I feel 
Those kindred spirits round me steal, 
Inspiring thoughts that light the way 
Along the flowery path we stray; 
And as I scent that fragrant bower 
Days only seem but one short hour. 
While I my journey's end pursue. 
Each rose and flow' ret blooms for you. 

'Twas He who made the trees and flowers 

To beautify this world of ours; 

He made the birds that wing the air 

And so decreed to fix them there; 

He gave to genius wisdom bright. 

That precious gift producing light. 

For all creation is a part 

Of God's unerring works of art. 

And so it is with you and I 

Who feel the touch and hear the sigh, 

That sweet, divine, poetic spell 

Through which our favored numbers swell, 

And as we pour along the lyre 

Fond sj'mphonies seem to inspire, 

The soul of music and the part 

That harmonizes in the heart. 



43 



ODE TO A FRIEND 

Within that great inventive mind 
A genial bard in thee I find, 
One whom upon the Muses pom- 
Creative gems in words of lore, 
Which serve to heal the wounded soul 
While chiding fools may play the role 
Of star who leads the ceaseless show 
Where airs of vain importance flow. 

I saw deep in those dark blue eyes 
The unpretentious, meek and wise, 
Wherein deception shares no part 
To stem the throbbing of a heart 
That beats for all the pulse of love, 
That gracious gift sent from above, 
Such is the bard's kind mission here 
To spread the songs of love and cheer. 



44 



I KNOW xNOT THE BARD 

Dedicated to the memory of Wm. Reed Diinroy 

I know not the bard, but his genius endears, 

Lending color and tone to an effort of years ; 

Inspired at the fountain of love to impart 

In the language of love, the thoughts dear in his heart; 

Revealing the beauty and charm of the soul. 

That shall shine through the ages and serve to console. 

For his name shall live on and far brighter shall be; 

Tho the soul is enshrined where no mortal can see. 

His gifts were divine as they poured from above 

The aroma of sweetness, affection and love ; 

And we join in the requiem, the chant and the prayer, 

As sung by the angels while greeting him there. 

For a life that was lived so unselfish and true, 

Shall arise in the glory of friendship anew ; 

And I mourn his sad fate, tho a stranger to me. 

As a brother and neighbor so honored should be. 

As I sat in the Press Club that funeral day, 

Along with my friends a last tribute to pay. 

Where the flowers in their beauty artistic'lly spread. 

Lending lustre and tone to a life that had fled, 

I felt the soft touch that in fellowship blends 

In the breath of compassion, the sighing of friends. 

Friends loyal to death in their mem'ry shall bloom, 

And immortalize him who now sleeps in the tomb. 



45 



OH ! HIE IVIE AWAY 

Oh ! hie me away from the source of alarms, 
Let me rest in the bosom of Solitude's charms, 
Remove me from falsehood, where none can betray, 
To the pure air of virtue, oh ! hie me away. 

Oh ! hie me away, from my soul I give vent. 
For the lust of this world I have only contempt ; 
From the smile of deception and jealous decay. 
To the forests untainted, oh! hie me away. 

Oh! hie me away, let me breathe the pure air 

In the depths of seclusion, removed from all car ^ 

Where my soul may commune with the breezes TKA-t /'^**y-, 

The sweet songs of the forest, oh ! hie me away. « 



46 



BECAUSE HE WAS A GENTLEMAN 

He wore an unassuming air, 

Simplicity at every turn ; 
He had a sense of honor rare, 

The miser and his hordes would spurn. 
He shared with neighbors in their woes. 

On jealousy he placed a ban ; 
He spoke not ill of friends or foes 

Because he was a gentleman. 

No selfish soul was his to save. 

His mottoes were for all the best ; 
And from the cradle to the grave 

His every act would stand the test. 
He loved the truth, the gem of life, 

In that he followed heaven's plan, 
And thus he lived avoiding strife 

Because he was a gentleman. 



47 



TO MOLLY, CAPTAIN P 

There are many 100 per cent American men and 
women in this land of freedom ready for action and 
with such genuine fearless patriotism this Nation 
will endure forever. 

We read of Molly, Captain P., 

The brave wife of a cannoneer, 
Whose name now shines in history 

A credit to her country dear. 
She carried water from the spring, 

To swab and cool her husband's gun ; 
But, lo, a fatal shot did bring 

Untimely death before he won. 
Then Molly, standing by his side, 

Kept up the fight until the end. 
And Monmouth hails the fighting bride 

Who did her Country's flag defend. 
Her name was placed upon the list 

Of half-pay officers for life; 
B/ave Washington could not resist 

The honor due that noble wife. 
Her body lies in New York State, 

She died in Seventeen-eighty-nine, 
Our Joan of Arc with courage great. 

That Irish heart of soul divine. 



48 



